The Autumn moon hung lazily in the night sky, a translucent ring of frost which circled it a sure sign that winter was indeed close. Sounds of drunken revelry arose from the wood-walled village of Timberfell, audible from even the outskirts of the small, woodcutters' town. King Valance Avaryn, Ruler over the East and the Goodly King of Ralkhara by divine right, has proclaimed that there be a week of celebration to mark the coming of age of his first-born Son, Rowen - who will have seen Sixteen years of life, six days from today.Along the beaten path from the west, a lone traveler emerged from the obscurity of the Wiltwood and came into view of the town.

Uthrepur swore quietly as he bent to loose a stone from his sandal. The traditional Sen-Rab footwear was great for the swamp to ward off foot-rot and get through the muddy landscape, but all this hard land was beginning to wear his feet out! The handsome man sighed - he may have to find some sturdy boots if all the roads in Ralkhara were like this, but boots which suited the rest of his attire were so hard to find!

Just ahead, Timberfell stood; the raucous inside clearly audible to Uthrepur. Its relatively low wooden walls were clearly designed to ward away wildlife, rather than keep people out. Nevertheless, two guards stood at the opened gate, one youngster with a rough wooden bow in his hand, and the other grizzled and aged, with a woodcutter's axe fastened to his back.

Somewhere, back within Wiltwood, a wolf howled. Lured by the thought of a warm bed and fresh food, the Sen-Rab man walked forth.

"Jethra; can't we just shut the gates an' go to Pigsplit?" the young man asked, pacing lightly, "It's freezing out here!""You should'a thought of that before ya decided Mira's purse was too heavy, Tommas!" Jethra replied harshly. "Besides, there'll be plenty of late travelers this week... Ah, see? Someone comes even now!"As Uthrepur neared the gate, young Tommas's eyes shot open and he raised his bow, reaching to his back to draw an arrow, "By all the...! He's Rabbin!""BY THE ONE-GOD, BOY! Drop your d**n bow!" The aged Jethra forcibly pushed Tommas's hand down, snarling, "The war ended before you was even born, boy! What is wrong with you!"

The chastised Tommas lowered his head and took a step back, but still kept an eye on Uthrepur, and kept his bow ready in hand."Sorry about the boy. Enthusiasm of youth an' all that. So what brings you this way, traveler? We don't see a whole lot of folk from Sen-Rab these days, what with tensions growing again an' all. On your way to Runlock to see the prince's name-day, mayhap?"

Jethra's tone was pleasant and he showed no sign of hostility; either he had no ill-will, or he hid his reservations well.

"Well met!", Uthrepur replied. He forgot about his sandals for a short while and focused upon the guards.

"Indeed, I am just a representative from Sen-Rab, sent here to partake of the celebrations and to witness the Prince's name day!"

The guards were unaware, but as a Sen-Rabbin and a warlock, guard's made Uth anxious. They had never been anything but bullies poking their noses into the matters of the warlocks, or chasing after him when he operated as a spy in the streets of the capital. If these men were anything like the Sen-Rabbin warrior caste, they would not find him easy prey.

"If that be the case, then welcome, stranger! Runlok is another four days east by foot, if that be where yer headed, but the night has set in and wolves be about - a wise man would rest up 'till dawn within Timberfell's walls." Jethra nodded and took a step back to allow access for Uthrepur through the gates."It's a wonder he didn't get ate by wolves already, walking the road alone at night!" Tommas interjected, before also stepping back, "Ask him his name Jethra!""Bah, ye have the tact of a gutter-rat, Tommas! But yes, we do need yer name before you go on in, stranger; the Zealots are tightening security in the realm. After that, you can find all that you seek in Pigsplit - it's the tavern along the main road; you can't miss it 'cause ittle be the one with all the people around it getting s**tfaced!" Jethra laughed at this, and Tommas grumbled miserably, clearly upset he was stuck on the gate and not one of those people.

"Strange for a Swampwalker like yerself to be wanting to celebrate the Prince's birth, what with our history." Jethra added, followed by a shrug "But I am no lord or politician; I for one am glad you'll be attending - it might show the more naive of us," Jethra made an obvious nod towards Tommas, "That whether you're from the snows or the desert or the swamp, we're not all so different, aye? Meaning no disrespect. Anything you need to know before heading in, traveler?"

"The young are often naive...", Uth looked at Tommas. "Fortunately, they got other... redeeming, features!"

Uth shot a quick glance at Tommas and winked his right eye, giving him an appraising look, from top to bottom to top.

Then he turned his attention to the older guard.

"My name is Uth. I seek shelter for the night, and perhaps work? Also, I would like some new footwear... Seems like Sen-Rab footwear was never intended for Ralkhara. Which store holds your finest fashion boots?"

Tommas practically jumped at the almost predatory appraisal Uthrepur made of the young man and, speechless this time, he shuffled to keep Jethra between him and the Sen-Rabbin wanderer. Jethra just shook his head.

"Not sure there'll be much work around this time; folk have stopped going out to fell trees on account of the bitter cold coming and all the d**n wolves about. They may need an extra hand at the sawmill if you don't mind getting dirty, but we be just humble woodcutters 'round here; wouldn't be much more than a few gold coins a day for it. As for footwear; I don't know much about no Fashion, but Hegra runs a small business selling leathers and furs; you might find some comfortable boots from her, if you see her in the morning. She runs her little shop out of her home, on the far side of Timberfell.Pigsplit can give you a room fer the night; provided they ain't full up. Lotta travelers this week on account of the name-day an' all. Tommas can lead ya there if you like - he knows the way well!"Tommas's face paled at the offer and he skittered like a lamb being led to slaughter, but he said nothing to his elder man.

Uthrepur smiled to himself. He drilled the spear in his right hand, and thought about making suggestive jokes about it, but set it aside. The youngster was skittish and prejudicial. Not any sense in upsetting his small town perspectives.

"Wolves, huh? In Sen-Rab it is crocodiles and snakes. Always crocodiles and snakes. Some men among the warrior caste sees hunting them alone as a sign of strength"

Looking around, studying the wooden houses, one much like the next, Uth looked quizzically at the young guide.

"Naw, jus' up ahead, Uth." Tommas led the man through the village - Timberfell was pretty much what Uthrepur had thought it would be from first spotting it; boring. Plain wood and stone buildings lined either side of the poorly lit streets, with dark alleys between. Signs of lumber work lay about; from heavy saws left halfway through logs, to split and shaped piles of timber stacked on wagons, ready to be taken away for sale in larger towns."Have you ever taken a croc, Uth?" once his initial hostilities abated - and he was sure Uthrepur wasn't going to make any advances toward him - Tommas's enthusiasm returned by way of being very talkative. "I seen a croc once; me an' Herod sometimes go camp by the Nyhaul River to hunt deer - we seen a huge crocodile snap a doe right in half as it was drinking! Right in two! Your Warriors must be tough to tackle one 'o them... Or crazy! Ah, there's Pigsplit!"Some fifty yards ahead a large, two-storied building stood. The creaky, painted sign out the front depicted a whole roasted piglet on a platter, complete with the apple in it's mouth. A couple dozen People were congregated outside on a wooden platform, some seated and others standing, mingling with one another. The sound of conversation, laughter and light-hearted arguments within the building suggested that at least as many people were inside.

"What're we got here then, huh?" before Uthrepur and Tommas could advance any further, a duo of obviously inebriated villagers stumbled out from between two of the plain buildings before them. "Hey Judah; look what Tommas has brought our way; a swamp-rat!" The man laughed heavily at his own joke while Judah chortled noisily.Tommas shifted nervously and spoke, "Come on Stannis, leave him be. He's just after...""@!#$ off, Tommas!" Stannis uttered harshly, "Go back to the gates like a good little thief! Now, Swamp-rat," Stannis sauntered over to the pair. His breath was ripe with cheap booze. There's a new tax for foreigners, didn't you know? Twenty bits and you can go on ahead; I'll even let ya keep all yer teeth! Innat right, Judah?"The drunken man's equally drunk friend was slightly more hesitant, and he whispered loudly to his friend, "I dunno, Stan. That spear looks nasty!""Bah, it's all for show! The Rabble love to make a show of things! Now, give us yer gold!" Stannis slurred and drew an iron knife from his pocket, waving it incompetently in front of Uthrepur.Tommas had gone white and was clearly on the verge of running, but had hesitated, torn between the shame of running and the equal shame of standing up to his fellow townsman.

"Yes, Tommas, crocs will do that. They will snap a full grown man in two too, lest he is careful. Only great warriors hunt them alone, and while I am an accomplished spearsman, I have not hunted one alone... Yet!"

They were interrupted by two drunk villagers and Uthrepur saw Tommas shy away, timid and fearful.

Too young to be a guard

"Tommas, didn't your fellow gate guard tell you to run straight back?", Uth said quietly and he waited patiently as the youngster took off.

"So... Stannis was it? You want 20 bits? I say you are lucky today, old man. I will give you 20 centimeters. 20 centimeters of my spear shaft, straight up your arse if you continue threatening me."

Uthreput spun his spear in a dazzling display and then stopped, the tip pointing straight at Stannis. Uth was scowling threateningly, his kohl outlined eyes hard and unyielding.

Grateful for his release from obligation, Tommas offered a "Sorry, Uth!" as he turned to run, disappearing into the night.Meanwhile, Uthrepur spun his spear in his dazzling display before resting the tip against Stannis's throat, the calm and confident tone in which he offered his threat somehow more menacing than a raised voice could be.Stannis swallowed heavily, his adam's apple rasping against the spear-tip and nearly causing it to pierce the skin, before he dropped his knife onto the ground."Jus' playing with ya, mister... a... a joke, yeah? Right Judah?" Stannis glanced over, but Judah was already running - his heart wasn't in it in the first place, and after seeing the Warlock's practiced moves, he'd taken off back to the alley he came."I... you bastard!" Stannis yelled then turned and stumbled, drunkenly falling onto his rear before scrambling back and running off as well, his stumbling form disappearing into the dark.

Uthrepur sighed and collected the iron knife which Stannis had dropped - it was simple but of decent enough make, and would sell for a couple gold bits if he felt like it: Some small compensation for the trouble, he supposed.

The rabble ran off, and Uthrepur silently sat the blunt end of the spear into the muddy road. He exhaled and looked around. Seems like the people outside Pigsplit were more preoccupied with drinking and talking, and did not notice what had transpired.

He picked up the iron knife and put it in his backpack, then he walked up to the tavern; shoved his way through the crowd as gently as possible, then opened the door.

His eyes searched for an innkeeper. He was going to rent a room for the night.

Uthrepur eased his way past the commoners outside. The large group were all involved in various conversations and gave the Sen-Rabbin man little more than a glance."... Believe the prince is sixteen soon! Of age to take the throne if...""...Where Judah went; he was here just a moment...""...getting so warm all of a sudden! Was so cold earlier...""...that kid won't be half the king his father...'"...a new star? Ain't seen that one before! It's so bright an'...""...back to my place for a @!#$? Aww, come on luv!...""... Where's Mari? My cup runs dry and I'm hardly buzzed! She'd better..."

Into the door Uthrepur went, revealing a large common room equally filled with people bantering. Dozens of candles and torches were lit over the place, making the room well lit and giving an airy atmosphere, despite the crowd. Uthrepur scanned the room for people of note before searching for the innkeeper, and out of the commoners he spotted two people of interest.

The first was standing at the bar, surrounded by several folk from Timberfell; a tall woman garbed in fineries and linens which clearly suggested that she was of a wealthier heritage than a humble woodcutter. A massive greatsword rested beside her, propped Against the bar, and Uthrepur caught the glint of a chain shirt hidden beneath those fine clothes. She was Ralkharan, but definitely not of Timberfell - perhaps a knight of one of the keeps within the land? She seemed comfortable amongst the peasants, sharing tales the topic of which Uthrepur couldn't quite make out, but one thing the Warlock did notice was that her eyes remained cold and alert. In fact, she had passed more than one curious glance towards the Sen-Rabbin.

The second individual stood out in a different way than the first; a male, clearly trying to remain inconspicuous by the plain, brown cloak and simple clothing he wore. His hood was drawn and he sat quietly at a far table in the room, drinking wine from a wooden goblet. What made him stand out was simply the fact that despite the large crowd in the room shoving and squeezing amongst each other, this stranger's table was always given a wide berth; an island of solitude within the crowd. Uth caught a glimpse of this individual's face beneath the cloak and immediately knew why: his otherwise handsome features were marred with a plethora of scars, cuts and nicks of various age. Uthrepur gasped - The man was surely a bleeder!

The rare Bloodmage, while not unheard of in the swamp, was a path of magic which carried with it a reputation which was as scarred as the bodies which they own. The ability and drive to manipulate others by drawing upon your own life force was considered by many to be taboo, and stories about Bleeders always suggested that the cost of using such arts was a fraction of one's very soul! More importantly, the Shadow monastery in which Uthrepur was a part of did not allow the use of Blood Magic; the leaders believed the cost of one's soul was too high a price to pay.

Finally, Uthrepur spotted the woman who must be the innkeeper; an elderly lass, though she appeared strong and lively, she was behind the bar with two barmaids, vigorously organizing drinks onto platters to be sent out to the masses. As Uthrepur drew near, she met eyes with him and offered a smile, "Evenin' master; here for a drink or three? Or perhaps a nice warm bed! I think i gots a room spare in the loft still! I'm Mari, by the way... What's yeh poison?"

Mari slid a green-tinted bottle of white wine - Montera vineyards, seven years aged - over the counter to Uthrepur, along with a plain wooden goblet and an iron key. "Room's right up the stairs, down the end. Two bits for the wine, and another three for the room. It's a bit late for fresh food but there's scrapings of lamb stew in the pot and some good crusty bread which you can have no charge , provided you give me a moment to send these drinks out! As fer work - you can help in the kitchens here if you like; i'll even let you have the room free if you do. Or, if you're after more excitement than scrubbing pots, I hear Old Lucas is running a hunt for a pack of wolves which took his best sheep, tomorrow; he can always use a spare hand if you're not afraid!"Mari finished loading one platter full of mugs and cups and slid it to one of her serving girls, who picked it up and weaved her way expertly through the crowd.

To the questions asked, Mari replied, "Aah, the 'noble knight' be Brinli; the Pride of my loins," She said with a snicker, "My daughter. She was taken under tutelage by none other than Lothar Steelbright to become a Zealot at the halls in Runlok! She's the first of us folk in Timberfell to become one of Zevoah's Hand! Don't see her much nowadays, but she's come home for the celebrations, bless her! Now, don't you go thinking to pull any moves on her, y'hear? She's promised to a lovely young knight back in Runlok!" Her tone was light, but Mari gave a warning glare to Uthrepur.

"The other - that mage... well." The innkeeper's tone sobered dramatically and she actually stopped work for a few seconds to lean in close, "That there do be Adramas; did you see his skin? Got the tanned colour of the sand-walkers, don't it? Rumour is his father was one o' those Ouzquin Dremorix savages from the Karikun Desert, and had his way with his mother in Barret Mill during a raid! Just hear-say, mind you! He makes his home at Valor's Vigil down south now - helping patrol the borders of the forest. Dunno what brings him up this way - he's hardly said a word to anyone all night; just sits there like he's waitin' for something!" Mari 'tsk'ed and continued pouring drinks; "d**n-right scary stuff, that Blood Magic if y'ask me; I hear they kidnap babes and use their blood to make themselves live forever! Sick, right?"

As Mari ceased chatting and got back to work, Uthrepur realized something; the room was not nearly as loud as it was earlier. Upon looking around, he noticed that it was only half as full as it was before! Several more people were walking out the door, too, including Brinli - ushered on by some of the folk that were previously outside, but had come in to bring something to their friends' attention. Uthrepur caught a few of the words being uttered between the folk; "... Never seen anything so bright...!""...Wonder what it...""...Beautiful, really! You have to come and..."

Uthrepur wasn't the only one who had noticed the movements. Adramas stood from his table and followed the crowd out, the expression under his cowl grim.

Uthrepur took the wine in his hand, his fist clenched around the neck of the bottle, and walked after Adramas. He went outside to see what everyone was looking at, but he also kept an eye on the bloodmage.

Wine in hand, the Sen-Rabbin Warlock exited the building to see what had lured the commoners out. The street was brighter than it was just earlier, Uthrepur noticed; as though dawn were not far from breaking - although it was still the middle of the night. Indeed, the chill of the air had been taken away somewhat as well.

With some nudging and weaving, he broke past the bulk of the crowd and found himself in the street near Adramas and Brinli, amidst Ralkharan woodcutters who were talking softly in awe-filled tones and gawking and pointing to the sky. Uthrepur raised his gaze to the heavens. The few clouds that had earlier remained were now passed, and left a clear view of the night sky. High among the stars, but steadily and silently descending, a piercingly bright light shone - there, a falling star burned fiercely.

"A giant bird, maybe?" Someone asked in a disbelieving tone, to which another replied, "Nay, see it's glow? A piece of the moon! Broken away and drifting to the ground!""Ah ye fools!" A third, very drunk Ralkharan man slurred, shaking his head and speaking in a sagely manner, "Assuredly it does be an Angel of Zevoah, who has't fallen from high and been cast down. Can you not feel it's sadness?"

Many of the crowd nodded at this and indeed, Uthrepur felt it too; washed in the cool light of the falling star, a strange melancholy pried at his senses. Some of the villagers were quietly weeping, not even realizing they were doing so as they gazed to the sky.

"What do you think, Swampwalker?" While Uthrepur was studying the star, Brinli had come over to stand next to him, "Seen anything like this before?" Her voice was curious, but tinged with worry.Adramas, the Blood Mage, stood a bit further back, but Uthrepur noticed his eyes were on himself and Brinli, listening to them.

There was one thing the Warlock realized; whatever it was in the sky, it was headed directly for Timberfell. And it was dropping. Fast.

By Uthrepur's will the wind bent and weaved about him with an audible gust. Some of those nearby who felt the strong breeze turned to stare at the Sen-Rabbin with awed whispers of "Witch", and "Sorcery!"Uthrepur ran, and as though his actions snapped the crowd out of their reverie, the townsfolk began to do the same, screaming and yelling. The Bloodmage and Brinli followed Uthrepur along with several villagers, though none could keep up with his enhanced pace. As he sought refuge further down the street, the night was filled with an ever increasing, deep rumbling which soon became so loud that even the screams were drowned in it. The air grew hot and the dark became nearly as bright as day. Uthrepur used a sturdy, felled log to shield him just as the falling star impacted with a tremendous crash with the town - Directly into the Pigsplit tavern! The sturdy building erupted like it were made of toothpicks as the ball of flame collided, spraying wood and flame everywhere. Down the street, the villagers who had lagged were torn asunder by debris and flame, their broken bodies and severed limbs falling to the ground. A cacophony of sound barraged Uthrepur in the chaos, before all became eerily quiet.

The catastrophe was over, and in the night all that could be heard was the crackling of burning wood and the wails of unfortunate townsfolk. Brinli had made it behind the log with Uthrepur, but Adramas had not quite gotten there and was kneeling before it with a grimace. His sloth had awarded him a sizeable stake of splintered wood, which was jutting from his left thigh. The Pigsplit tavern was no more. Indeed, three of the houses which had surrounded it were also nothing more than rubble, half swallowed by a sizeable crater which lay where Pigsplit once was."Mother...!" Brinli gasped upon seeing the wreckage, and she pulled herself up to leap over the log, panic in her eyes."Mage! Stop her, by the gods!" it was the first time Uthrepur had heard Adramas talk; his voice was authoritive and thick with an accent the Warlock did not quite recognise.

Uthrepur held tight onto the woman, his arms gripping tightly around her midsection. For a time, it appeared he would keep the grip, but with strength borne of desperation, Brinli twisted and broke free, running towards the smoldering remains of Pigsplit with a staggered gait.

"Tears of the Gods, hm?" Adramis's firm voice drew Uthrepur's attention - the Blood Mage had risen to stand on his injured leg, "You may be closer than you think to the truth... Come, Sen-Rabbi; I have a feeling that there are more trials yet to come this night." Adramis hobbled towards the chaos, his leg restricting him to a slow pace. All around, the screams and wails of the injured and dying echoed and intermingled with the crackling of residual fire, creating a somewhat hellish atmosphere. Less than a dozen villagers had survived the impact.Ahead, Brinli staggered to the lip of the Crater. She paused there, staring down into the chasm for several seconds, and then began to scream.